Zayn Specter had built his empire on control — of his mind, of his surroundings, of himself.
But tonight, control had abandoned him.
The evening dinner had ended hours ago, and still, he couldn’t drive her from his thoughts. Lana Pearson.
A woman who should have meant nothing. A woman who, by all logic, he should despise.
He’d told himself that she was dangerous — a manipulator, a liar, someone his father should never have crossed paths with.
But the truth clawed under his skin: she fascinated him.
The more she denied any affair, the more her eyes flashed with indignation, the more he felt something inside him tighten — not anger, not entirely. Something rawer.
Something that made his pulse unsteady and his body betray him.
He laughed bitterly at his own reflection in the dark wind
